Here lies everything
by Prince Zombie Frog
Summary: AU where the American war of independence ends slightly differently...and England becomes a waist land, where no human lives. What will happen when America finally steps foot on that small island many years later...? Rating for violence and some language, better than my summary. Most likely a 2shot. more info inside. Title in progress. family genre/ tragedy? Enjoy!


**Alternate History fic so lots of changes and oddness, USUK if you squint but mostly just FACE and UK family stuff. A bit violent and some language.**

**WARNING: CONTAINS BADLY WRITTEN ACCENTS, FRANCE AND VISABLE!CANADA**!

* * *

America stared with a mix of sadness and determination down his gun at his former carer. England glared at him, hurt and confusion clear through his panicked green eyes while his legs shook from exhaustion and his breath was laboured. While the younger nation was backed by his countrymen England stood alone, bodies of red-coated soldiers lay behind him in the mud while others had escaped to care for their injuries leaving their county's' personification to fend for himself having long lost sight of Canada in the battle.

America felt his heart clench slightly at the sight, the once great empire was gone, now there was only a small island struggling to hold on. He quickly shoved his thoughts aside as he reminded himself of the injustice that the man before him had enforced on his people.

"Britian! All I want is my freedom...I'm no longer a child, nor your 'little brother'...from now on, consider me...independent!"

"I WON'T ALLOW IT!"

In a flash the Brit's blade was a few feet from America, the young nation jumped out of his shocked daze and lifted his bayonet in defence, metal sliced into wood and with a cry of anger England flung his enemies weapon out of his hands, the gun flew through the air landing metres away in the thick mud. The world stood still, the Brit trying to keep his shaking hands steady as the other stared in shock at the bayonet that was aimed straight between his blue eyes, one movement and America would be dead.

"Ready, aim!..." America registered the sounds of his army preparing to fire but his focus was only on what England would do next.

England could barely breathe; the sight of his own gun aimed at his little brother along with America's expression was too painful. Clenching his teeth he prepared to pull the trigger...taking a deep breath he willed himself to pull the trigger...pull the trigger...pull the...he couldn't do it. Slowly he lowered his weapon, finally allowing his shoulders to slump as the blade of the bayonet hit the ground.

America stared in confusion as England backed down; eyes widening at how broken the once proud man looked.

England stared back, blinking rapidly as he shook his head.

"I can't do it..." he didn't know when the tears had started running down his face, "I can't shoot you!" Dropping his weapon he lifted his hands to his chest, clenching the fabric with his head bowed as choked sobs rattled his battered body. God, it hurt, why did his chest ache so much? Damn it _hurt_! Since when was he so weak that such pain hold him back from victory? England gasped for air as he openly sobbed. He knew now that he was never meant to win this war, he had been a fool to think so and now there was no way he could get _his_ America back, to once again laugh and smile with the only true family he felt he had ever had under sunny skies. Even in victory he would never have those moments again...

_'Between victory and my little brother...there is no option'_

"I've lost..." the broken man whispered, "...I-I've lost..."

_'everything...'_

"England..." The American was speechless, unable to comfort the fallen empire. At his former colony's call England looked up, unable to hide the pure anguish that consumed him, the thought back to all those years ago when he had met America and promised to protect him and raise the child in a way that he himself had never been cared for, he remembered the boy begging him to never leave and a small, sad bitter smile tugged at his lips looking at the man that boy became. America was about to step towards him when the sound of muttering caught his attention. He span round just in time to see the general lower his arm as he shouted, "FIRE!"

"NO!"

The young nation turned again with wide eyes as gunfire rang through the air and bullets pierced England's body, causing the unprepared nation to stagger back with a cry and fall into the blood stained mud bellow.

"ENGLAND!-hold fire-I SAID HOLD FIRE!" America screamed, darting towards his ex-guardian and landing on his knees with a painful smack beside him, lifting the blondes head into his lap. England's face was frozen in shock with small smudges of mud splattered over his pale cheeks and hair, the once wild blonde locks now flattened to his skull and caked with a mix of mud, water and blood, his skin was cold after standing in the rain and wide teary eyes looked up at America but didn't quite see him. "England! England, are you ok?" Not getting any answer he looked down at his body, fear rising when he found three distinct bullet holes in the shoulder, chest and stomach, dying England's shirt the same red as his coat. He pressed his hands to the chest wound in the vain hope that he could hold back the steady flows of blood and snapped his gaze back to the clouded green orbs of this former brother.

England's head was swimming, a numb buzz vibrating through him making him unable to focus on anything. When feeling did return to his body his breath hitched and pain coursed through him, thick blood bubbled up into his mouth; even though the feeling was strong he could still feel mud and rain weighing down his clothes along with the warmth radiating from Americas hands as they were stained with his blood. Blinking lazily he finally saw two familiar sky-blue eyes looking down at him, if it were not for the rain England would have thought he saw tears in those eyes; America looked pale and was covered with mud, he had grown so tall over time that he had never had the chance to notice, yet the Brit could still see the small frightened colony inside.

Swallowing, a thick wave of emotion compelled him to weakly reach up to the young man above him, "A-Ameri...America?"

America held tightly onto the offered hand, unconsciously bringing it to his cheek, ignoring the warm red substance that painted both of their skin as he stared down at England helpless and lost for what to do. Although his mind was frozen it seemed that he was still able to talk. "Shh, England, it'll be ok, yeah? We'll get you fixed up, there's no way you're gonna- I mean y-you're Britain so...so you'll be all right..."

Blood stained lips spread into a melancholy smirk, a strained chuckle making its way out, "Y-you idiot-UGK!...I'm not indestructible you know..."

The American tightened his grip and lifted the wounded nation to his chest as he coughed up blood, leaving crimson jewels over the others blue coat.

"S-So? You're still a country- you can't die!"

"Y-You're...you're wrong."

"..."

"My ec-conomy is f-failing- Uh!- too many wars...and all that..."

"Wha-what? Why are you saying this now..."

"I'm weak, America...If I were human I'd already be d-dead-" he chuckled

"Don't say that! You're not human! You're not gonna die, ya hear me?!"

More blood peaked out of the gentleman's lips beginning to slowly drip from his chin "-America, listen I need to tell you-"

"No! No, you don't- tell me later- just let me get help first and-"

"AMERICA-Ak!" the nation used what little strength he had to clamp onto the boy before he could move.

"Just shut up and listen you stupid git..." closing his eyes and taking a breath to steady himself the dying man spoke as clearly as possible. "Even though I haven't been...fair to you. I-I don't hate you. In fact y-you're the only one...the only one... I've ever truly felt close to- family- b-b-but I hurt you and I'm sorry..."

America bent down and tried to wipe a tear away with his spare hand but only managed to smear more staining red across the others face before hugging the man close to his chest, never letting go of the hand in his grasp "its ok- I forgive you, England I-..."

"America...d-don't blame yourself, it- it was meant to be this way..." the Brit ignored the others choked sob and shaking head, "...America?"

"Yes, England"

"You know...I always wanted a human name? L-like Arthur or something...such a useless thing, huh?"

America forced a laugh "This is coming from someone who sees fairies?"

"heh, I guess you're right there...A-America? I-"

"Yes, England what is it?"

"...America…"

"E-England?"

"...I-I..Ame-"

Panic rushed through America "Arthur!"

A faint smile flickered across the others face even as he struggled to speak, "...g-..goodbye brother...I lo..ve..."

England became limp in his grasp.

America didn't move, waiting for him to continue as his own limbs started to shake with the strain of the man's weight. "...England?..., ...ENGLAND?!"

Carefully leaning back from the embrace he stared at the peaceful look on England's blood stained face in shock, the cold lifeless hand slipped from his grasp and fell into a reddening puddle. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted with the words he had wanted to speak trapped inside as the last few drops of blood slipped out, head lolling to one side lazily while he became paler and colder with each passing second.

England, ruler of the British Empire and America's older brother for the past few centuries was dead.

_'What have I done?...'_

"Sir." Numbly America recognised the voice of one of his men and looked up, the soldier held no expression "We have captured all remaining enemy troops and have struck a deal with their leaders...the war is over, sir. We won."

The country continued to stare at him blankly, no expected joy or relief seeping into his being, just an empty gaze and a short nod. Taking that as a sign to leave the soldier started shouting out orders while America's eyes returned to the still form held close to him, without a word he raised to his feet and carried the sleeping body away from the battle field, leaving the scarred bayonet behind.

* * *

**_Here lies everything_**

**_The world I wanted at my feet_**

**_My victory's complete_**

**_Hail to the king_**

* * *

France didn't make a single sound when he saw the body, his eyes darkened and his skin turned a ghostly pale where he stood. Canada had turned a similar colour but had not held back his tears enough for them not to be noticed, he tried to catch Americas eyes in hope of finding out what had happened but the other country kept his head bowed and placed England carefully on the stretcher prepared for him. The Englishman, now paler and rain washed, looked more at piece than he ever had in life, almost as if he was just resting after so many years of bloodshed and tears but his ancient beaten body was broken beyond repair; he would not wake to fight another battle again.

In the end America made the first move. Turning slowly he glared darkly at the one human in the tent "Who gave the order?"

The soldier gulped and stuttered at the frightening looks that each nation was directing at him. "G-General Cane, s-sir"*

"Have him arrested and imprisoned, he is to await trial for high treason and murder"

"B-but s-sir the general-"

"The general ordered the death of a nation WITHOUT MY CONSENT! NOW GO!"

"Y-yes...sir" As he left the three nations turned back to England's body.

Canada was torn between his own pain and the pain he felt for his brother and former carer, although he had been on England's side during the war he had secretly hoped that the American would gain the independence he wished for, but he was England's colony and had hoped to gain his own freedom more peacefully...it seemed that it no longer mattered. Although they had never been as close as he was to France or England was to America, the Brit had shown him kindness and respect that he never thought he'd have, it was almost like having a step-mother...he just wished they'd had more time to strengthen that bond. His brother was his main focus now though, if what he was feeling was anything to go by then lord knows what America was going through.

France on the other hand was more focused on the body of the man he had fought with since they were children, although they had striven to fight against one another in any way possible they could never kill each other, he had always felt that they shared an odd sense of trust between each other that made them inseparable. The Frenchman had never had a bond quite like that from any other country, England had even started to open up to him when they were raising the twin nations but the empires' conquering of the sea and fear of losing even one colony had kept him hidden still, so maybe his next course of action wasn't so surprising afterwards.

When America finally turned to face them he was met with a fist to the face from France, he fell back without even trying to retaliate as the other shouted at him. "What 'ave you done!? I knew you wanted freedom from Angleterre- I joined you for zat- but you went far enough to allow zis to 'appen! What 'appened!?" France glared down at the younger nation, shaking slightly as his emotions started to break through.

America tilted his head and wiped at his bleeding lip, finally catching Canada's eye in the process, without taking his gaze away from his brother he told his story. "We had defeated England's army. All the others were either dead or too injured to fight; he refused to back down. At first he took me by surprise and managed to disarm me but he didn't shoot me...and then..._Cane_ gave the order to shoot- I wasn't quick enough to stop it! When I called a ceasefire it was too late, there was...no way to save him..."

The two other countries remained silent after that, each stepping towards England's body to pay their respects before leaving to allow America a few moments alone.

"Why is his body still here?" Canada mumbled.

France looked over to Canada but the other was still lost in his thoughts, "If he were truly dead wouldn't his body have faded away by now? Is there a chance that he could...?"

France put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head sadly, "If only it were zat simple mon ami. Angleterre has been pushing his limits for some time now; his economy 'as been suffering from ze warz and diseasez 'ave been killing both 'is people and crops… he was too weak for battle...I suspect zat within the next few hours his land will be abandoned and then he will disappear..."

* * *

Canada didn't return to the tent for a few hours until he felt a slight tingling feeling and saw the faint light floating into the sky that informed him of England's disappearance. He entered the tent quietly and stood at the entrance for a few moments to allow his presence to be acknowledged.

America was standing with his back to him and his head bowed, one hand resting on the bed that England's body had previously occupied. After some time America finally lifted his head and spoke.

"Gather your troops and head home. I will not enforce any rule or law upon you so you have no need to worry about that"

Canada didn't move from his spot. "I wasn't. I'm more worried about you..."

Silently America turned to face his brother; a shiver ran up Canada's spine at the sight and he felt a sense of dread creeping into him. "A-America?"

America smiled widely, his posture relaxed and friendly without a single trace of stress, his skin looked clean and healthy compared to his battle clothes and for the first time in years he wasn't carrying any type of weapon on him. To anyone else he would look like a victorious hero ready to celebrate, but what the Canadian saw told a much more troubling story.

The skin around his eyes was not red from irritation or stained with any trace of tears, in fact the edges of his eyes had happy wrinkles from the wide smile on his face but his eyes gave away his true appearance; his blue orbs pierced into Canada's soul with ice cold indifference, a darker shade of blue shadowing their usual sparkle, America looked as if he were calculating every movement that he made and dissecting it.

"No need for that bro…"

Tilting his head and patting his twin on the shoulder with his blood stained hand, America left his frozen brother with two words and a smile.

"I'm fine!"

* * *

**_So your worlds benign_**

**_So you think justice has a voice_**

**_And we all have a choice_**

**_Well now your world is mine_**

**_And I am fine_**

* * *

Centuries passed and a new power crept across the globe: The United Nations of the American States.

First to fall under Americas power was France, who grudgingly became part of the UNAS in order to gain power of his own and to avoid fighting a losing battle. After conquering the whole of North and South America other than Canada, the two countries then made deals with Japan, Italy and Spain, using their armies and farms in return for land, money and protection. China was ravaged in war, left weak and venerable when he was finally captured, other Asian nations split into UNAS supporters or rebels trying to free themselves from oppression, Russia and the Soviet Union became uneasy, Russia trying to steal China from the Americans while Prussia, Belarus and Ukraine held their ground against all of the UNAS armies. The whole of Europe became a battle field while America continued to take land and support in Africa, later pressure from his brothers growing empire forced Canada into accepting his leaders' decision to join the United Nations of the American States.

The young country of America covered the world in darkness and fear, creating his own justice in order to 'save' others from oppression, on the tainted wings of liberty.

All the while a small set of islands above Europe became known as the 'Abandoned Lands', a soulless place where plants grew through stone walls and metal factories to reclaim what was taken from the ancient forests long ago. Later these islands became a safe haven for fleeing gypsies, witches and 'free men'...

* * *

**_Now the nightmares real_**

**_Now America is here_**

**_To make you quake with fear_**

**_To make the whole world kneel_**

* * *

~14th October 1870~**

"America, you can't be serious!" Canada pleaded as he attempted to keep up with his brother's horse, "The family of Albion are peaceful people, if you just let me talk to them-"

"You would be sucked into their magic nonsense and start crying like a baby! Relax bro, I'm just gonna shake'em up a bit then they'll be on the road to recovery! And I'll be the Hero!" America smiled widely, a dark twinkle in his eye.

The Canadian fidgeted slightly, worrying his bottom lip before answering. "But they haven't done anything! You're just going to make them angry, you- don't you remember who used to live here?!"

The young American looked blankly at him and shook his head "No. What? Did Frenchy scare you with one of those pirate stories again?"

"The lands of Albion were once ruled by one of the most ruthless nations the world has ever known! Don't you remember when he appeared on our land?"

"Wait- are you say'in... you saw this dude and you never told me?! Aw man~ that's totally not cool!" America whined.

Canada flushed lightly and sighed "W-well I don't really remember what he looks like, I mean we were just kids then but I know that it was him!- anyway that's not the point you-"

"Well what did he look like?" the younger brother almost bounced with excitement, curiosity quite evident on his face.

"Um...well he had wild hair a-and glowing green eyes! And he wore this huge hat that shadowed his face- I think he might have worn a long coat too?- b-but he had a gun _and_ a sword! He was...scary."

There was a moment where neither of them spoke, Canada looking distant and America a little surprised. The silence was broken by Americas laughter.

"HAHAHAHA! That musta been quite a story for you to have a nightmare like that! C'mon bro, even if the guy did exist he'll be long gone."

"But I could have sworn that I saw him..."

"Don't worry about it, even France isn't sure if he was real and Japan thinks that it's just a little bit of Roman history that was used to scare others away"

Huffing, the long-haired blond shook his head and gave America a weak glare "We're getting off topic- Why do we have to use force? Is it really necessary? They're just gypsies and druids, not fierce warriors"

America returned the look with a determined one, "No can do, if there is any chance that they have a trick up their sleeve we have to use full force. It's the only way if we wanna help these people"

Canada shook his head once more and looked away._ 'Not everyone needs saving and war is no way to help people'_

* * *

Scotland and Wales glared daggers at the nations that had defeated them as they were bound to a tree, America looking smug as he nodded to his soldiers that they had done enough.

"That was a good fight but now I need a little help from the two of you"

The red haired Scot laughed and his brother spat in their direction, "Ai, as if we'd help you!"

America blinked in confusion, he was used to having the countries he invaded hating him but these two didn't hate him- they loathed him, he could see it in their eyes just as he had seen it in the way they attacked him the moment he stepped foot in their village, they weren't just angry nations out to protect themselves, they were brothers out for revenge...but who for? Shaking the thoughts away he concentrated on the matter at hand.

Giving as pleasant a smile as possible, "I have already captured Ireland and they will be joining you guys soon enough but I'm looking for the third nation of this island, your little brother I think?"

Suddenly the brothers changed; Scotland looked like he was going to blow up if he didn't rip someone to shreds there and then where as Wales was as pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf

"That imposter is _not my brother_!" Wales hissed to himself, distant blue eyes looking both scared and saddened at the mention of the other nation,

"He can't be...H-he just can't..."

Canada looked between the two in confusion, speaking up for the first time, "'He can't'?"

A sinister laugh made its way through the elder brother's teeth, his green eyes still boring into Americas. "Nuh, he can't be. Ye wanne ken why?..."

Scotlands head tilted in question mockingly before he straightened up and scowled "because you killed 'im."

The two North Americans were shocked; Canada felt that growing unease pop up again in the back of his mind as America tried to think of any time where he could have killed a nation without knowing. They shared a glance both thinking that something wasn't right. America shook his head slowly when answering Scotland "I can guarantee on my name as Hero that I have never killed a nation, as far as I know the last nation to die out was Holy Rome not your brother"

The islander stared at him in disbelief and sighed "So it's true?..." looking carefully at the twins then back to his own brother, who suddenly seemed to have flipped from depression to hopeful, they shared a few moments before nodding and with new determination faced their enemy.

"Well then you just lis'n 'ere" The red head laughed "y'can break my body, y'can steal ma heritage and poison ma'mind- but mark ma words: real brother o' not, even if I ken where he were...I'll never hand 'im back to you fur slaughter!"

* * *

America sighed, keeping his pace slow enough for Canada to keep up, staring in wonder at an old ruined castle that had remained long after the factories and houses had collapsed. The two had decided to do some exploration before rushing off after the mysterious 'dead' nation, Canada was just about to ask for a break when a rustle made him twitch with apprehension, America also looking around carefully for any sign of trouble, a slow creak sounded from behind them.

"Release my brothers or I shall slay you were you stand"

America turned toward the voice, under the trees was a short hooded figure with his bow aimed towards the two brothers, from what he could tell by the figures voice and height he was probably a boy no older than fourteen physically but with the soul of a whole nation inside there was no telling how old this person could be and with the aura coming from the child there was no way he was human. Canada stood still, his instincts screaming at him that something was different about this new comer- his accent wasn't like the rest of the Albion family, in fact it sounded closer to his own accent, so familiar but completely new.

America sighed and gave a smile, "Put the bow away, kid. Y'know Ya can't kill me!"

There was a whistling sound close to the Americans ear and a sudden thud from behind, glancing back he was shocked to see a hand carved arrow had flown past him and buried itself in the tree behind him; ancient runes decorated the well crafted stem showing the hidden power within the thin wood (if you believed such stuff), the speckled feathers smartly cut for flight. He looked to Canada, eyebrows raised, and they shared a surprised and intrigued look before turning back to the mysterious young nation who stood exactly as he had before with a new arrow ready to fire.

"You're not indestructible you know!" the boy growled, not noticing how the American twitched at his words, "And I think I have less to lose than you, so unless you want the next one in your brother's bloody eye you will leave my land!"

At the mention of harming Canada the tall blond became grim, giving a cold smile "That was some pretty impressive stuff who-ever-you-are -" grinning wildly with a dangerous laugh he suddenly pulled out a revolver and aimed it straight at the bowman with a click, "-but can you fire that arrow before I pull this trigger, I wonder?"

There was an obvious change in the young man's posture; his shoulders stiffened and even though his face was hidden Canada could almost feel the glare burning them from under the hood. Slowly the bow was lowered but the bow remained loaded, resting in the archers hand like a loyal pet.

"Git..."

"Good boy, now stop speaking gibberish and get out of the shade so we can get a good look at you"

Grudgingly the boy exited the safety of the forest and stood a few paces in front of them. Up close and in the light it became more apparent how small the archer was; the top of his head only just reached Americas chest and his body was in need of a proper meal to put some meat on his bony arms, his slightly freckled skin looked as if he had never seen sunlight but the scars and dirt that decorated his arms showed a hard working life, the back of his right hand was marked with a black tattoo that matched the silver medallion hanging from his neck, his white cotton shirt and brown breaches were one size too big with only an old belt keeping them up, the old forest green cloak that hid most of his features was roughly patched up here and there with darker shades of green. He looked like any other druid or gypsy boy, but there was no mistaking that he had the aura of a nation around him.

For a moment there was silence, America blinked twice and raised an eyebrow "Wow... You're tiny!"

Canada slumped in despair while America laughed loudly, the hooded figure shook with anger. The Canadian massaged one of his temples, trying to calm his nerves while his brother giggled and the boy seethed._ 'America...at a time like this?'_

Finally the youngest snapped, "Shut up! Bastard, I'll have you know that I'm twice the height my siblings were at my age and will grow to be the greatest empire this earth has ever known!"

Finally calming down, America readjusted his hold on the revolver "Oh really? And how are ya gonna do that?"

A smirk appeared on the teen's lips, "Like this"

In a blink the small figure had notched his arrow, aimed and fired, cursing America went to pull the trigger- the thin arrow head plunged into the barrel of his gun, the force making him jerk back. Coming to his senses he looked at his useless weapon then towards the archer...

Both twins stared at the spot they had last seen the boy before noticing the retreating figure racing away from them.

_'He may be a good shot, but running away doesn't seem like something the "greatest empire the world has ever seen" would do'_ Canada thought, watching his brother run after the young country before joining the chase.

The cloaked figure raced through the forest, weaving through trees that tore traitorously at his clothes as if to hinder his escape. Although he had knowledge of the land, this advantage would not help him long enough to escape America's longer, more powerful strides, the blonde nation kept the boy in his sights as he waited for an opportunity to catch him or, if necessary, shoot him. The boy staggered into a clearing giving the American a chance to lift his gun and fire, the bullet narrowly missed his leg but caused the kid to cry out and jump away clumsily before sprinting away disoriented but he was too slow, America blocked his path trapping him by the edge of a steep valley before he could make it back into the woods.

Panting the hooded teen searched around for an escape root desperately, finding none he went to pull an arrow from his quiver.

"Don't even think about it." America smirked nodding to his own weapon as a warning and gesturing for the other to drop his.

Slowly the boy lowered his hand and hesitantly tossed his bow into Americas waiting hand, Canada burst through the foliage just as the quiver of arrows was dropped between the two countries.

"Hey bro, no need to worry the hero's taken care of everything!" America cheered, not taking his eyes off his prisoner. The defenceless nation grumbled under his breath but was ignored. "I don't trust this guy to cooperate so would you mind taking that hood off while I keep him under control? Keep your hands where I can see'em Shorty!"

Canada glanced nervously between the two then calmly walked over to the Avalon boy, making sure to keep his steps slow and even so not to appear threatening- although with America pointing a gun in their direction he doubted that the teen would care. The other remained silent as Canada approached, his head lowered slightly and hands hovering by his shoulders revealing another tattoo on the palm of his left hand previously hidden by his bow. Stopping before the smaller country the Canadian composed himself before grabbing onto the rim of the hood and pulling it back quickly.

Colour drained from his face, his limbs becoming that of a statue as the mysterious boy was revealed, green eyes shoving Canada's mind painfully back through time, to a place that he had long forgotten...

"Eng-..."

* * *

_The flowers waved gently in the wind, a small child with bright eyes, long gold locks with a long curl bobbing in front of his nose chased after a butterfly, his white gown floating behind him. Suddenly the boy caught his foot and landed heavily on the ground, sniffling in pain he looked up to see the beautiful insect disappear, a tear ran down his cheek as he watched it go._

_"CANADA!"_

_The child jumped and looked around to see a tall figure rush towards him and lift him into their warm arms._

_"Are you alright?! What were you thinking running off like that? I was worried you know!" the man sighed dusting off Canada's grass stained gown while the boy blinked at him in confusion tears still leaking from his large orbs. Sighing, the young man pulled up a sleeve and brushed the tears off the others face, "What's the point, it's not like you understand what I'm saying..."_

_Nose tickling Canada sneezed, blinking rapidly when the man chuckled._

_"We'll at least I can teach you how to call me when in trouble, right? Now repeat after me- ..."_

* * *

"England?..."

Confusion flickered in the teens bright eyes as Canada's eyes began to tear up and a short unbelieving laugh escaped his lips. Though younger, there was no doubt that this was England, if he wasn't then this boy had to be his son; his unusual forest green eyes still held their spark of life that revealed his heart to almost anyone, his scruffy blonde locks still failed to completely hide the unbelievably large eyebrows, a few freckles were dusted across his nose but other than that he hadn't changed a bit. Canada was stuck between stepping away from the 'ghost' or pulling him into a hug, the shock of his returning memories conflicting with the situation at hand, speaking of which America had yet to see the boys identity and England himself didn't seem to know them, how would his brother react to having his 'big brother' back from the dead?

"Y-you...how do you know that name? Only my brothers call me that..." Young England came out of his daze and glared suspiciously at the older man "Tell me what it means! Why do nations keep calling me 'England'?! I'm Arthur!" he hissed.

"A human name?" the other mumbled distracted.

"Well I have no _real_ name yet- my people can't decide so I just..." the little one grumbled still waiting for an answer.

Canada remained silent unable to answer without seeming crazy, remembering their conversation with Scotland and Wales; they had seemed to known the boys identity even when others had forgotten made him more certain that this boy wasn't just a look-alike but the real England reborn.

Americas laughter ripped through the tension like lightening, leaving the other North American cold with fear and uncertainty as he looked over his shoulder. "C'mon Canadia, if he's that shocking I wanna see what he looks like!"

Glancing back at Arthur he swallowed before stepping slowly to the side, giving his twin his first glimpse of the young nation as the boy looked away from Canada and into Americas blue eyes.

For a moment neither seemed different from before until Americas hands started to shake and his eyes grow wide, thoughts were crashing into one another in his mind, trying to explain the familiarity and emotions that this boy was uncovering, images of smiles, toys, battlefields and blood were flashing in front of his eyes too fast to interpret; unconsciously he dropped his gun as his vision was taken over by a lost memory...

* * *

_"America?" the small child looked up from the flowers he was observing to the man with kind eyes, "Let's go home..."_

_The boy smiled widely and took his outstretched hand... _

**_This man...I know this man!-_**

_America stared down his gun at the same man in a red coat. The blonde glared at him, hurt and confusion clear through his panicked green eyes while his legs shook from exhaustion and his breath was laboured. While the younger nation was backed by his countrymen the other stood alone, bodies of red-coated soldiers lay behind him in the mud like fallen leaves in autumn._

**_What? Why am I...?_**

_"Britain! All I want is my freedom...I'm no longer a child, nor your 'little brother'...from now on, consider me...independent!" _

**_Independent. That's right, this man was..._**

_"I WON'T ALLOW IT!"_

**_Wait...no-_**

_"Ready, aim!..." _

**_No! _**

_"I can't shoot you!" _

**_ STOP! En-_**

_"FIRE!" _

**_ENGLAND! _**

* * *

**_And I won't feel_**

**_A thing._**

* * *

The revolver bounced and tumbled away from its owner, America stood frozen, memories and emotions rushing in and smashing everything that he had thought he knew, seeing his actions for what they truly were; oppressive, greedy and deadly. He lost the path of a hero...all because he wished to prove himself strong enough to save others, enough that he could save those he cared for. The three countries didn't move, waiting for someone to act before they made their move, each moment making the reincarnated nation more desperate for answers. Raindrops began to fall lightly around them, reminding both North American brothers of the last time the three had been together and triggering America to finally move towards England.

Arthur himself was too startled and frustrated by the change in atmosphere to bother feeling intimidated by the taller nations approach and so stood tall and defiant, prepared for whatever surprise attack this stranger could come up with- nothing he'd do could be worse than his superstitious brothers! It was only when the American was just a few steps away that the Albion teen realised that he wasn't stopping.

America grabbed him and yanked him forward, the young nation closed his eyes in preparation for the impact that was sure to follow when arms wrapped around his small frame and gently crushed him up against something warm and shaking. Slowly opening his eyes little Arthur was shocked to find himself being embraced by a tall blond nation with his face buried in the teens shoulder.

"England! Oh, god. I'm so sorry- so sorry England..." America muttered into Arthur's cloak, locking his arms in place as if to stop the boy from disappearing.

Canada watched in relief and joy at the odd reunion, seeing the real America that had been hidden inside his brother for so long as he cried into the confused boys shoulder, then joining the hug and laughing when said boy began to complain about soiling his precious cloak and stupid-bipolar-delusional nations acting like babies. Neither of the twins paid attention, too happy at having another chance with their big- or not so big- brother.

Then he cracked.

"Alright! That's IT! WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE!?"

America sniffed and pouted at his little-big-brother, a hint of worry mixed with his own amusement. "ENGLAND!~ hurry up and remember me!"

"What?-Hey! Stop squeezing, Git! And since whe- don't touch there! EEK! That was my toe you-" Arthur turned a flustered pink as the two men snuggled up to him, not used to such affectionate physical contact from _one_ nation not to mention_ two_. Remembering his own brothers the small nation managed to slip his hand to his belt, gripping the handle of the small dagger hidden there, and with a burst of energy pushed the two larger nations away as he swiped the small blade at America.

Both brothers fell back in surprise, America only just managing to lean back enough so that Arthur's blade only left a small scratch on his cheek. The American's eyes widened, transfixed on the angry image of this young England.

The boy snarled at them, anger and frustration evident in his emerald eyes "STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

Without warning the boy began to sprint away into the forest once more, he was instantly followed by America who was panicking at the thought of losing England once more, but his pursuit was halted by Canada.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME GO!" America swung a fist back towards Canada, not once looking away from the retreating figure.

Dodging the blow Canada gripped his brother tighter, "No, America! You can't go after him; he doesn't know who we are!"

"Then we just need to jog his memory! He-"

"America! Listen to me- he's scared, his family has just been captured, his land invaded and now you and I appear and claim to know him! Going after him now will only make you look like the bad guy!"

That seemed to get through to the other nation, his body sagging in dismay as the younger nation finally disappeared from sight. The Canadian sighed sadly, releasing the other from his hold once he knew it was safe.

"…I know you want to, but we can't talk to him right now. He doesn't remember u-…anything- We have to get back and release the other nations first…maybe once you've released his brothers you can try talking but before that you need his trust" The quiet man pleaded to his brother, anxiety building as the other remained where he stood.

Finally America turned and nodded, looking utterly defeated for once as he trudged back to camp….

* * *

Scotland, Wales, America and Canada sat silently around the small fire that had been created for them, tension rippling through the air around them.

Finally America cracked, "Ah, jeez! This is way too awkward! Can we please just go find England and-"

"No, we canne go after ma brother before we've sorted this out" Scotland sighed moodily, refusing to look at the blonde opposite him.

"How can he back? I know he is a country like us but this isn't normal, right?" Canada asked quietly.

"You know as much as we do, when I first saw him I thought he must be an evil spirit so I never looked into it further" Wales admitted shamefully,

"England possessed powerful magic even when he was young, this may have been what has saved him from vanishing but I doubt it…"

Scotland nodded thoughtfully, "If that were true then our Mother would still…more likely he was never meant to die that day, so his land kept his spirit until the people returned."

"But why can't he remember us?! If he's been brought back then why…?" America scratched his head, trying to work out the answer himself.

The Albion brothers glanced to each other for a moment before looking at the other two again. "When you first arrived you had no memory of

England, ai?" the North American brothers nodded and Scotland continued, "But now you've seen him you remember everything, doesn't that seem odd to you?"

Canada's eyes narrowed in worry, "Well yes, but I don't see how that can help us with England. None of other countries we have met seem to remember him either- even Papa."

"Because if we find out why everyone except us has forgotten him we might be able to help England as well"

All four went silent. Canada stood up and began to walk away, only stopping when his brother asked why.

The younger brother turned "Go and find England- or Arthur- or whatever we're supposed to call him. We're going to need more help but we might only get it if England is here"

America blinked in confusion "Why? Where are you going?"

Canada turned again and began to walk away, "To get my Papa…"

* * *

"England? Iz zat what ze youngest iz called? Mon dieu, what a 'orrible name- it 'az no grace at all!"

France shook his head as he leaned back in his chair, a look of pity on his face. Canada winced slightly at the lack of recognition his papa had shown when he had been told about the discovered country. Apparently France would have to be face-to-face with his old foe to even recognise him.

Naïve to Canada's thoughts the Frenchman continued to mutter to himself, "Vous avez dit qu'il était un enfant? Peut-être que nous devrions lui donner beau nom français? Hmm…Angleterre? Oui, ça sonne parfait, comme un ange!"

"Papa…" Canada felt a wave of sadness come over him, realising that if France did get his memories of England back he'd be wracked with guilt for forgetting him in the first place, not to mention that Canada was sure his guardian had adored England even though they had argued so much.

France blinked in surprise and turned back to Canada, the young man sounded so sad but why? Had he said something bad?

"Oui, mon petite? What iz it?"

For a moment Canada just stared at him with searching violet eyes, then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"America wants you to meet England, will you please come with me?"

The older blond bounced out of his seat, beaming in excitement as he strode quickly towards the door. "Well zen what are we waiting for?! I must meet zis petite ange, hohohon~"

Suddenly Canada was wondering if he should have left France out of this.

* * *

Arthur was confused. More than confused, he was frustratingly confused! After running away from the strange blond brothers, he'd turned back and quietly followed them under the cover of his forest back to their camp just across brother Scotland's boarder. He'd then seen the two foreigners return with Scotland and Wales- untied and unharmed- beside them and set up a small fire before talking quietly to one another. He'd been unable to tell what they were talking about but for some reason they were acting almost like friends rather than hostages and guards.

Curled up inside the hollow tree that he had been sleeping in since the invaders arrived, Arthur tried to figure out what was going on; Had his elder brothers surrendered or had they planned to work with the strangers to capture him? Had Arthur misjudged the situation? Maybe they were all friends and his attack had been unnecessary? Could it be possible that the strange men really had known him when he was younger? Why was everything so confusing?!

To make things worse he'd been developing a headache since the small battle two days ago and had yet to find any herb to sooth it.

_"Arthur! Arthur!"_

The small nation peeked out of his hide away to great the small voice, a faint blue glow flittered in front of him and landed on his out stretched hand.

Arthur's green eyes sparkled as a smile played on his lips, "Hello Abigail, what's the matter?"

The blue fairy looked up at him with wide golden eyes as her fragile wings twitched, fiddling with her braided navy hair as she spoke._ "One of the strange men has returned along with your brothers! They seem to be calling for you!"_

His large eyebrows rose in question, "Calling for me?"

Abigail nodded then crossed her arms in thought_ "Yes! But it's strange, they don't seem to be carrying any weapons and one of them mentioned someone called 'England'…"_

After taking a moment to think, Arthur gathered up his cloak, bow and arrows, before looking down at the fairy once more. "Can you take me to where you last saw them, please?"

The blue figure launched into the air and hovered in front of his face, clenching her hands in worry,_ "But they might hurt you! Are you sure you want to go to them?"_

The blond smiled widely and stroked her head gently with one finger, "I know…but I need to understand what they want. Thank you for your concern; I don't know what I'd do without you and my other friends"

Blushing purple the magical creature smiled up at him._ "I understand, but that doesn't stop me or the others from worrying for you"_

"I'd feel just the same for any of you" the young teen sighed, "Well, let's find out what they want"

* * *

"Arthur? Are you there? It's Wales. We just want to talk to you"

"Are you sure we should be calling him? He might just run away" America groaned irritably.

"If we chase after 'im 'e'll think we're tryin' to hurt 'im" Scotland replied just as irritably.

They had been wondering the forest for a good part of the morning and had yet to find any trace of the missing nation, for Scotland it was getting hard to bear the whiny American's presence.

"Maybe we should split up?" Wales suggested, hoping to relieve some of the tension between the other two.

America whirled around, looking terrified at the very thought "No way! If he doesn't see me with one of you guys he'll totally think I'm still the bad guy! B-Besides don't you know you should never split up in a creepy forest- that's how the monsters get ya!"

"Ah, don't be such a sissy! Ya whinin' yanke"

"I'm not a sissy! I'M THE HERO! And besides I'm not the one wearing a skirt!"

"Yar a nuisance that's what ye are! It's a kilt, not a skirt ya bugger!"

As the two began a heated, loud argument with Wales trying to get their attention, none of them noticed a short shadowy figure cautiously leaning

out from behind a tree to watch them. Arthur stared at the small group from under his hood, trying to work out whether or not he should reveal himself yet or wait a little longer. As far as he could see they weren't acting hostile- well not towards him at least- and his brothers were starting to look a little worried, even the strange guy with weird hair was on edge. Finally making up his mind Arthur breathed in deeply and stepped out into the small clearing, going unnoticed by the bickering men.

Stealing himself the boy lowered his hood and called to them "What do you bastards want?!"

The three larger nations froze, Scotland's hands still lingering around America's neck with Wales hugging his waist and America gripping both their hair, turning their heads to stare at the teen they had been searching for.

Furrowing his brows in irritation he spoke again "What you staring at? Come on, out with it! What do you gits want?! Answer me damn it!"

Finally snapping out of it America lurched out of Scotland's grasp and glomped the startled boy, "England~! You're ok!"

Before Arthur could retaliate there was a loud whack and he was free from the Americans grip, who was now lying on the ground with a painful lump on his head and Scotland standing over him.

"Were you always this idiotic?" The red-head growled at America before looking at his little brother, his expression softening into something Arthur couldn't quite understand.

"Arthur! We've been looking all over for you!" Wales smiled as he bent down to give his brother a softer hug.

Arthur froze before slowly relaxing into the hug but not returning it, looking up at Scotland for anything suspicious. "What are you talking about? Why the hell are you looking for me when you've spent most of my life telling me to go away?"

The arms around the small boy tightened slightly as Wales buried his head in the young boys shoulder, shame and regret washing over him once more. Scotland knelt down and ruffled Arthur's hair.

"I ken you have no reason to trust us, but for what it's worth we're sorry" Scotland sighed, looking deep into those green eyes in an attempt to show his sincerity, "As your elder brothers we shouldn'ta done those things, but y'can be sure that's it'll be different now"

Arthur stared at his brother in wonder, feeling Wales nodding beside his head. Glancing over Scotland's shoulder he looked to a few of his fairy friends for their judgement, when he saw them giving encourage meant he returned his gaze to his two brothers just as Wales released him.

"…All right, I guess I can give you a chance…we are brothers after all- b-but that doesn't mean I like you or anything, got it!" Arthur huffed, refusing to acknowledge the blush that was rising to his cheeks. His brothers were accepting him…could it really be that they were going to be a real family now?

"Hey! Don't forget the hero!"

"Shut up ya ninny, we've found the brat so let's get back. I don't know about you lot but ah'm hungry! What about you Artie?" Scotland grinned down at his little brother, ruffling his hair with a bit more force than before.

Shocked at the action Arthur couldn't answer before his stomach growled with longing, causing the others to chuckle as his skin started to resemble a Spanish tomato.

Glaring at his older sibling he shoved off the hand on his head and grumbled, "…It's Arthur you git"

America beamed at the scene but let it shrink to a small smile as he watched them, a little jealousy dulling his happiness. He envied the island nations for being directly related to England, it meant that it was easier for them to gain his trust but for America there was no way that he could return to being the little nations adopted brother while England didn't know him, for all he knew he may never get the teen to even become friends with him not to mention brothers. This was going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

**That's all I've got at the moment, originally this was only a short one-shot with an open ending but I got a bit carried away so will either end next chapter or on the third chapter- don't expect anything soon, I've been writing and editing this story for a few months now (so many alternative endings…SO MANY T^T)**

_Vous avez dit qu'il était un enfant? Peut-être que nous devrions lui donner beau nom français? Hmm…Angleterre? Oui, ça sonne parfait, comme un ange! _**means 'You said he was a child? Maybe we should give him good French name? Hmm ... England? Yes, it sounds perfect, like an angel!' ****It's been years since I've done french so if I've mistranslated please tell me!**

**This is entirely character based and my own imagination- not what I believe would happen in real life, k?**

**Based of the wonderful Dr . Horrible's sing along blog: Here lies everything. Please read notes and last comment and review **

**THANKYOU!**

*** General Cane: This name is made up and I have no idea what ranks they had in the war of independence nor what rank the man would have to be to give the order, I barely know anything about American history-or any history for that matter- so if the name relates to any existing person it is merely coincidence**

****Just a random date I chose, plus there were images of gypsies and Gaelic clothes from this time**

**(I have an idea for a song fic based off the song 'Hanging Tree' where Prussia, England and Romano are hung for crimes they didn't commit either as sacrifice or just a mistake then America, Canada, Germany, Italy and Spain all meet under the tree when they go to meet their loved ones (may or may not include france), all human- warning will probably be a tragedy- if you review and read this please tell me what you think by typing 'HangMan:' and a short comment, thankyou!)**


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